


Who Walks These Halls

by Romiress



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, Ghosts, Post-Under the Red Hood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: A year after the destruction of Bludhaven, Alfred calls Zatanna for help.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Zatanna Zatara
Comments: 22
Kudos: 204





	Who Walks These Halls

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Zatara," Alfred says politely as he meets her at the door. She's dressed in casual clothing, looking like a perfectly normal and _not_ a member of the Justice League. That's ideal: if too many members of the League started showing up at Wayne Manor, someone would probably raise an eyebrow.

"Please, Zatanna is fine," she says with a smile, slipping her shoes off once she's inside. She's barely three steps in when her head snaps up, eyes scanning the room in silence.

"Oh dear," she finally says, and Alfred smiles wryly.

"Oh dear indeed."

"When you asked me to investigate, I... well, honestly I thought you were imagining it."

Alfred raises an eyebrow at that, perplexed by the very idea. Why would someone contact a magic specialist within the Justice League if he wasn't _sure?_

"No, I am quite certain I am not imagining it," Alfred says, and she smiles a bit at that, pulling her jacket off and setting it to the side.

"No one talks about it, but I get a request for an investigation from someone in the League every few months. With what we do, there's a lot of death, and a _lot_ of people think they're being haunted when really they're just... jumpy. It's understandable. So I come in, tell them the place is cleaned out, and if they sleep a bit better because I fibbed... well, so be it."

"Except we are, in fact, actually haunted," Alfred says, and she offers a small laugh in return. She turns, heading into the house, and stops when she's near the dead center of the house, turning back to Alfred.

"When did this start?"

"Not long after the destruction of Bludhaven," Alfred confirms. "It was small at first. Little things. Lights being left on that should have been off. Lights being off that should have been on. Things winding up out of place. I... am not familiar with the supernatural beyond what I've learned from being near Master Bruce, but I was raised in the church. I know that... souls are not intended to wander on the Earth."

"It's a bit more complicated then that," Zatanna says. "Sometimes they.. stick. Because they're worried about people, commonly. Because they're unsatisfied."

"Like an old horror movie. Or a ghost story."

"They have a grain of truth to them. Ghosts are generally not as hostile as movies would have you believe, but... well, kinds like that exist. But I don't think this is one of those sorts; a dangerous ghost, I mean."

"No, I don't think they are either. They haven't done anything bad. I was simply... concerned."

"Concerned," Zatanna repeats, raising an eyebrow, but Alfred doesn't clarify. She considers, and then acts the most direct question yet.

"Do you have any idea who the spirit is...? While stories push the idea of _random hauntings,_ that sort of thing only happens in extreme circumstances. Generally, spirits are connected to the people they're haunting, and they'd need to have a... a strong connection."

Alfred knows. He knows, but he isn't sure how much to say. Bruce would probably be angry Zatanna's there at all, he supposes, so there's nothing else that can be done.

In for a penny, in for a pound, as his father always said.

"Considering the timing and... other factors, I believe that the spirit in question is the Red Hood."

Zatanna's surprise is _extremely_ obvious, her eyebrows shooting up as her mouth drops open.

"The Red Hood? I didn't even know he was dead..."

"Ah, so you are familiar. I wasn't clear on how much Master Bruce conveyed to the League about the matter."

"I was told he was a criminal in Gotham who was particularly brutal. Bruce fought him a few times, and then the Red Hood kidnapped the Joker. There was an explosion, and Bruce wasn't able to determine either's status."

The corner of Alfred's mouth twitches. How like Bruce to explain things that way.

"The Red Hood was Jason Todd, returned to life through... unknown means."

Zatanna obviously knows what that entails, because she's silent, the color draining from her face.

"And you think he's... back to haunt Bruce?"

"I... am not so sure of that. I don't believe he's an angry spirit, but I am far from an expert in such matters. If it makes sense, I would say that he is... avoiding Master Bruce, if anything."

"It's possible," Zatanna says, and it's clear she's becoming more confused by the second. "Are they localized to any specific part of the house...?"

"The east wing," Alfred says with a wave of his hand. "Sometimes as far as the kitchens near the middle of the house, but never the west wing where the bedrooms are."

"Show me the way."

* * *

Alfred leads the way, but Zatanna isn't far behind. The feeling in the house is throwing her for a loop, the entire place permeated by a single cohesive feeling. The haunting she's investigating is not small scale: the power there is the sort of thing that could cause real _actual_ damage if the spirit were so inclined.

She's more interested in the feeling of it. Alfred's right: the spirit isn't angry, but it isn't particularly any one other thing either. Normally spirits have a single strong emotion—anger or misery are common—but this one is more muddled.

A little bit sad. A little bit happy.

He leads her right into the library, a room so large that from the door she can only see maybe half the room, and she knows immediately that the library is the center of the haunting. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she signals for Alfred to stay put as she moves into the library, following her senses like Theseus with a ball of thread.

She turns the corner and stops short.

Ten feet in front of her is undeniably the spirit itself. It isn't visible the way a human is, but she can still see it just the same. It's like someone took a hole punch to reality, and looking at it gives her the impression that something is _missing._ If she squints and looks just right, she can get a sort of impression of what should be there, of what should fill the absence.

It is not Red Hood. It's a boy who can't be more than ten, with curly hair that's probably the most distinct part of him. She can't see a face, but she knows when the spirit turns to look at her, standing between the bookshelves that must be his home.

His place of safety.

He's so _young,_ a little bird come back to the nest.

She doesn't know what to say, and simply stands there, staring at the spirit until Alfred joins her, stepping up beside her.

"He isn't causing any trouble," Alfred says quietly. "But I... I wasn't sure if it was right. If he should really be here."

He shouldn't. Ghosts weren't meant to linger, not like this. Not as a ghost of a little boy in a big empty library.

But he isn't a sad ghost either. He isn't weeping or crying. There's an air of melancholy in his presence, but he isn't the sort of ghost she feels the need to hurry along.

"He could stay," she says. "In time he might pass on under his own power. Or... or if you'd like I could... could push him along."

"No," Alfred says quickly. "No, I don't think— I don't think that's necessary. He can stay. He really isn't any trouble."

The spirit is still watching, silent, and Zatanna wonders how much they understand. Spirits have never been her area of expertise. Not ones like this.

"Is there... is there anything I could do to help? To make him more comfortable?" Alfred asks, and with that Zatanna is _completely_ out of her League. She's guessing at best, trying to remember. Getting rid of bad spirits? Sure. Keeping good ones around? No idea.

"I think... if you left things that he liked, that might help. Foods and... objects. In a place he could find them. If you make a space for him, he might prefer to stick to it, rather than wandering."

"I'll do that," Alfred says, letting out a quiet exhale. "Thank you for coming, and for... advising. I wasn't sure how... if I should be concerned."

"I don't think you need to," Zatanna says, and as she watches the spirit seems to fade, the impression less distinct. "I think... I think he'll move on in his own, in time."

She doesn't want to think about why the little boy has taken up residence in the manor but refuses to see Bruce, the man who _should_ be his father.

She doesn't want to think about anything to do with Bruce Wayne right then.

Alfred shows her out (but not before offering her plenty of snacks), and thanks her for her time. He's nothing if not polite, and seems significantly more relaxed now that he's gotten the answers he sought. She collects her coat and her shoes, saying her goodbyes and offering further help if it's needed, but she's certain it won't be.

They aren't that kind of spirit.

Zatanna makes it all the way to her car before she stops, glancing back over her shoulder. She only means to wave to Alfred, but standing where she is she can't help but get the impression that someone's standing just beside Alfred, watching her go.

And just for a second, she thinks she sees the spirit smile at her as she waves.

It's an image she won't forget for a long, long time.


End file.
